


Solivagant Together

by alexandredumas_eatyourheartout, the_navistar_carol



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batfamily Angst (DCU), Beta Read, Books, Brotherly Bonding, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, Gen, Jason Todd-centric, Jason is a Dork, Jason is best bro, Lazarus Pit Madness, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mostly Jason, Nerd Jason Todd, Night Terrors, Not till later tho, Pets, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jason Todd, Social Anxiety, Why Did I Write This?, for once, here i am tho, idk now its all one blur, it seemed impossible, oh my god im acutally doing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandredumas_eatyourheartout/pseuds/alexandredumas_eatyourheartout, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_navistar_carol/pseuds/the_navistar_carol
Summary: In struggling to regain his humanity Jason Todd realizes two things. Sometimes you have to stop to feel the rain on your skin, remember that you're there with a purpose. The other being that family comes in all shapes and sizes.OR, Jason Todd’s struggle to become normal: the novel.(Triggers and other warnings will be put in the notes! Personally I think this fic won't be too dark or anything but better safe than sorry.)
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Solivagant Together

**Author's Note:**

> : TRIGGER WARNINGS: (if you are triggered by the following topics, please go to the notes below!!
> 
> TW: will be put at the endnotes, depending on how the chapter goes.  
> Hope you guys enjoy, this is my first Damian and Jason bonding fic but god, do I love me some Jason Todd and Damian Wayne. Either way, enjoy!! I'm so excited to share this with you guys and seriously this is so self-indulgent don't mind me.
> 
> Also my beta, my BFF, TheFairMaidenOfFandom is literally such a saving grace, and the only reason this story is somewhat literate. (Ily bish)

_ Everything is muddled. _

_ He doesn’t know where he is.  _

_ Panic settles in his chest. He tries to use his voice. When nothing but a hoarse croak sputters from his lips, the feeling only grows. An indescribable pain swallows his body whole. He felt empty. _

_ Like a shell. A husk. Hollowed out. _

_ Instinct and adrenaline push his limbs into action. He claws away. He can feel the delicate flesh of his fingertips being shredded by the lumber as he hysterically digs at the lid of his coffin. Wood and earth embed themselves beneath his nails, but they only add to the deafening burn of his wounds. _

_ And through the unyielding haze that seemed to immerse everything, a name forms at the back of his mind. _

_ It’s fleeting, but through the haze of his ever-growing confusion, he manages to cling to it. _

_ “Bruce,” he croaks. _

_ Again it replays in his mind. Shadows. Warmth. Home. The air around him is murky. It’s tinged with the scent of something coppery.  _

Blood _. _

_ His hands are raw. Muscles and tendons scream as they are exposed to the brisk Gotham air. He digs and digs until he breaks through. More thoughts, feelings (things he cannot place), and emotions flit through his mind. _

_ A sinister cackle echoes in his ears. His body lurches forward to grasp at a chunk of sod. More words. They’re familiar now. Everything is cold. Sore. Wet, like the grass he clings to. _

_ His mind races as he glances around. There was nothing- But the dull buzz that crept up the base of his neck makes him think his eyes were wrong. Everything is streaks of light, buildings he cannot place, faces that were smeared over and faded. Like the blood on his hands _ .

_ Jason. _

His eyes opened with a jolt. His fingers ached with phantom pain from the torn, bloodied fingertips, attached to hands that were equally as marred. Even though his reanimation had been years ago, the memory was still a fresh wound in his mind.

It was still something that he could never come to terms with.

Sleep-ridden limbs refusing to cooperate with the rest of him, Jason lay there, suddenly feeling suffocated beneath the fabric of his sheets. His heart pounded in his ears, pulse thrumming beneath his skin, lungs taking in another breath-  _ alive.  _

He was alive.

Jason was never sure if that was good or bad. The dream-  _ nightmare-  _ Was fresh. It was there at the front of his mind, happily ridiculing him. Sometimes the terror of it all was dull and faded, and the scariest part about it was that feeling of never knowing  _ why _ . Ultimately, the thing haunted him to his wit's end. Then they grew to be something else. As if Jason had been put into his younger body, forced to relive each moment with such excruciating detail.

He sat there for a few more minutes before he ambled to the restroom and flicked the light on. Once the light hit his eyes, he clenched them shut. After being in the dark for so long the fluorescent white bulbs were not a welcome sensation. He blinked once, then twice, then once more. The brightness still  _ stung _ . He reminded himself to buy dimmer bulbs the next time he went out.

Looking in the mirror was painful. Seeing himself there felt  _ wrong _ . It wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be standing there, breathing, and yet there he was. The notion of it all wasn’t very welcoming. The reflection that stared back was no more welcoming, either. Vibrant green eyes that tore into his very being scowled back at him. Had they always been that color? Had they always been so full of anger?

Yes, the anger had always been there. 

It was there when his mother died. And it was there when Batman found him stealing the tires off the batmobile. And it would remain there, buried inside him forever. Jason didn’t mind it. 

In an ideal world, Jason would be dead. Dead as a doornail. But hell, when has the world ever been ideal? Jason couldn’t remember a time when it was. Not anymore, at least.

Jason couldn't understand many things, as of late.

He earned a creak of protest as he turned the faucet on. Cool water splashed from the spout a few seconds later. Reaching into the water he cupped his hands and brought it to his face. Once, twice, four times, Jason kept rinsing away. As if the water itself could wash the nightmare away. 

It never did.

He turned off the water and gripped the edges of the sink. He found himself staring into the mirror again. That damned white streak jeering at him, another reminder that told him he wasn't supposed to be here.

_ You don’t belong here. _

He closed his eyes,  _ well I’m here anyway, so fuck off. _

Self-loathing hours didn’t usually start till about 5 am, either way.

Jason turned off the light and trudged back to his bed. The simple alarm clock on his nightstand read  _ 3:58 am.  _ He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping again. But he got into bed anyway and attempted to get his body some well-needed rest. Last night had been one of the tougher patrols, and his body was begging for sleep.

Not that he went out of his way to miss out on Mistress Sleep. Jason was playing the hand he had been dealt, only now realizing that  _ insomnia-inducing-nightmares _ had been one of the cards in hand.

Slowly, his eyelids drooped. Sleep had won him over at last.

* * *

Three hours later his eyes opened again. Jason sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes before shifting into auto-pilot. It was the average Friday, and his plans never changed. Not that he had any specific plans whatsoever. Maybe he would take a walk today, he did have to go to the store for a few groceries, after all.

_ And some light bulbs, _ he recalled his previous reminder.

He rubbed his eyes and unceremoniously yanked off the covers. Jason was tired. Maybe he should sleep-in. Get some shut-eye, something he severely lacked, but there was no point. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he had done something productive with himself.

He would even settle for having just done  _ something  _ in general. He felt that his time should be spent wisely by being productive. But even then, that time grew lesser by the day. What had once been July was now September. Not that he minded. His life was- still  _ is-  _ one big blur.

And a small part of him desperately wanted it to be otherwise.

He wanted numerous things. But he ignored those wants and replaced them with the necessities. Food, shelter, water, air, move on, keep going, breathe-in, breathe-out, don’t stop, keep  _ going- _

Jason trembled, taking in a long-awaited breath of air.  _ How long had he been holding it in? _

He ambled into his restroom and pulled out an electric toothbrush. He had a thing with hygiene, and he was convinced that Alfred had only amplified the few manners his mother bothered to instill into him by about 3000%. He kept his eyes low as he switched it on. The machine let out a monotonous buzz and thus began his day.

Jason was determined to get things done despite his state of being. Whatever happened last night was over with. Done. There was no need to worry about it  _ whatsoever _ . And even though every muscle in his body throbbed in protest, he pushed on. 

“Dog?” A moment passed before a faint bark came from beneath the kitchen table. “I’ll be back soon, girl,” he slid on his jacket and opened the door. “Going for some errands.”

Gotham grew a bit colder in September, but his leather jacket would suffice. He was in a walking mood and the grocery he went to was only three blocks away. Taking the car would be timelier, but he could use the fresh air.

His mind reeled upon stepping out of the apartment complex and into the crisp Gotham air. Not an altogether pleasant smell and still, it was his home. The word  _ home  _ is an amusing one in itself. Jason was certain he had absolutely zero ideas as to what it meant at this point.

Arriving at the supermarket, he picked up a basket and headed for the produce aisle. The store wasn’t as packed as it had been last week. No surprise there, considering half the people in the area could hardly afford the housing let alone food. There were a few other people, browsing through the cheapest foods they could find. He was adjusting to being around so many people and had nearly forgotten how  _ nosey _ society was. Most times a person that happened to look his way often gave him the strangest of looks. Like they had seen a walking  _ corpse _ .

_ A corpse, Jason, you’re a riot,  _ he snorted at his joke, earning another strange look.

Eventually, he made it through the store, all without buying too many guilty pleasure snack-items. He was trying to cut back on the sugar, but those pints of Neapolitan ice cream was just begging to be bought. So as any sane person would, he grabbed two. 

The line he picked was a short one. Jason stood behind a young woman who was catering to the needs of a noisy toddler, currently fussing about his seatbelt. The clerk woman, showing the barest hint of toleration, spoke in a strained voice. 

“Miss, it says here that your food stamps are expired.”

The woman looked up from her child, “Declined?  _ Damnit _ ,” she pulled out her wallet in a frantic manner. After a few seconds of digging, she handed a card to the clerk.

The clerk’s lips formed a tight line as the machine gave another disheartening buzz. 

“ _ Declined.” _

“I’m sorry. The stamps weren’t due till next week. Just maybe try again,  _ please _ ,” she added with a strained smile. Jason could see the panic bleeding through the edges of her lips.

Jason felt his stomach drop as the machine beeped again. 

_ Declined.  _

Such a strange thing it was, to be  _ feeling _ anything for a stranger. To be anything but indifferent to one life out of billions more. The notion of it had taken him back to a time before the great  _ nothingness _ filled his mind. Before the bright, sickly green was all he could see.

Before the Pit.

“I’m going to have to ask you to pay with cash, ma’am. If you can’t I’ll need to take these items from you.” The clerk, clearly irritated and inconvenienced, practically threw the credit cards at her.

She fumbled for words, “Ma’am please, my kid needs to eat and-”

“Look miss, there is a  _ line  _ forming behind you. If you do not leave I will not hesitate to call security,” she said in a bored tone.

The woman went to speak again, till Jason reached for her with a smile. “Doll, I didn’t realize you had gotten in line without me.”

The woman shrank back, “Wh-” Jason shook his head, mouthing something. 

_ Just go with it. _

He turned to the clerk, who was studying him with apprehension. Fortunately, the clerk brushed it off. 

“Her card declined,” she announced with a sour expression. 

Jason hummed, quickly setting his items on the conveyor belt. “Do you take chip?”

“Yes,” the clerk-  _ Deborah _ , the name tag read- accepted the card from his hand.

The young woman looked at him, eyes narrowed in genuine confusion.  _ Why was he doing this for her? _

Her son stared, too. Seemingly mesmerized by the white chunk of hair that flopped over Jason’s forehead, the boy reached out and grabbed at the air.

“Pwetty,” he babbled, only to giggle wildly, finding his statement remarkably entertaining.

Babies were strange. Jason could barely remember his years as a teen, let alone being a baby. Not that anyone could truly remember being a baby. All he knew was that these small humans that leaked from their mouths were strange.

Jason didn’t quite mind it, though.

After all was said and done, Jason silently bagged her groceries and set them in the cart.

“Why did you do this?” The question itself burst from her lips. Like she had been holding it in for an eternity.

“You needed help. It wasn’t much. Your kid is weird,” he responded curtly, before grabbing his groceries. She took a hold of his arm, and it took everything in him to keep himself from ripping away.

“His name is Dean, uhm. Gosh, thank you so much,” she blurted. “You have no idea how much this means to me- I’m so grateful. Gosh, I’m a mess right now, aren't I?” she sniffled. Again, Jason found another curious sensation filling him.

“I hungey!” Dean looked at his mother with a pout on his lips.

Jason managed to release a bit of the tension in his shoulders, glancing at  _ Dean _ .

“It’s fine. You might wanna take him home and get some food into him. Can’t keep the little human waiting,” after a moment's hesitation, he gently ruffled the child’s dark curls. Dean giggled in return.

She nodded and gave him her biggest smile. “Thanks again, uhm-”

“Jason,” he mumbled, choosing not to look her in the eye.

“Well, Jason, thank you so much. Gotham needs more people like you,” she stated and gave him one last thanks, before walking away.

He stood there, professedly frozen by her words.

_ Gotham needs more people like you. _

Jason blinked. So many questions with little to no answer for them. Thrusting his limbs into action, he shuffled out of the store and ventured to his apartment.

~~

The moment the door opened, Dog was at his feet.

"Hey girl, you keep all the bad guys away while I'm gone, huh?" He cooed, setting down the groceries and rubbing her neck.

Dog barked, before trotting to her food bowl and nudging it.

Jason laughed, "I know, girl. I'm hungry too."

The click-clack of the dog food tumbling into the dish had her tail wagging happily. The dog jumped up on Jason, licking at his face.

"Girl,  _ down _ ," he let out a soft chuckle, setting her bowl down. "You're way too energetic for me sometimes."

The canine snorted with enthusiastic volume as she devoured her Grain Free kibble. Jason debated for a few moments on whether he should cook something substantial or settle for some cereal.

He glared at Honey Bunches of Oats, before reluctantly grabbing the box and heading towards his cupboards. 

He glanced at his phone, stirring his cereal in a bored fashion.

_ Two notifications, one missed call from Grayson. One voicemail from Grayson. _

Jason dropped the spoon of sugary sweet goodness into his mouth, harboring a frown. 

_ What the hell did Grayson want? _

**Author's Note:**

> :TW: If you are triggered by descriptions of injury or blood please stop at this line;  
> Instinct and adrenaline push his limbs into action.
> 
> And continue at this line; It was still something that he could never come to terms with.
> 
> ~~  
> Thats all folks, hope you enjoyed the read!! Please comments ur thoughts if you have any!!


End file.
